Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Why I Love Football

From the moment it begins I am hookedby the pomp and circumstanceby the over-the-top pageantry and larger-than-lifeBose-inspired, John Williams-infusedsurround sound announcing:"THIS IS IMPORTANT STUFF HAPPENING RIGHT HERE SOYOU BETTER PAY CLOSE ATTENTION!"It helps that I adore men in uniformespecially these gladiators tricked out inmodern-day versions of Roman Coliseum Fashion, in uniforms that enhance the shape of broad shoulders and small waists,muscular thighs and the outrightgrab-ability of (some of) those asses.I respect how undistracted and hyper-focusedthese men are, deep inside theFootball Compartment of their group mind,competitive and testosterone-laden,aches and pains a mile awaycovered by adrenaline and God knows what elsecooked in the Big Pharm Labs of 'Merica.Caressed by the roar of the crowd, I love the backslapping, the pig piles,that ridiculous and comical rooster dancethat's beautiful to watch no matter whichplayer's crowing and those celebratory leapsto smash chests which you will never seewomen do.

I deeply respect the lack of pity, self- or otherwise,and how those tough-guy, black and white-garbed refswear their belts like construction workersundisturbed and fearless, totally comfortableon the field and in charge of all those crazy, doped up warrior dudes who run like bansheessmashing and grabbing, grunting and yelling,thrilled to be alive.

I love the tattoos and long hair,how there's a rule for everything, how madthese men and boys get when they break one, and how everyone knows they did, and how those flags flutter in earnest and whistles shrill hard for both major and minor transgressions. I have even begun to understand the point of cheerleaderswho bounce up and down in their seductive little outfitstelling the world they are good for one thing andone thing only and Lord knows it's not a conversation requiring brains, except the kind that ends in bedand yeah, ok, I'm a little bit judge-y still but the truth is,and I will deny I ever said this except under the worst kindof torture, there is something primitively appealingabout beautiful, young, sexy womenwho relish being beautiful and sexyunabashedly cheering on those hardworking, young, and sweaty menwho relish hard work and sweat.

So you see how I adore those warriors on the battlefieldenveloped by the roar of the crowd andThe Voice of the Announcer,hands over patriotic hearts as they singOur National Anthem before heading into battlewith a few non-lethal weapons: determination and thick skin,heavy bones and deep muscle,youthfulness and vigor,athleticism and teamwork,the willingness to suffer for the larger goalof beating the other guys, of killing them even, safe in the modern reality thatnobody actuallydies.